Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

T heo stood in front of his brother's grave, feeling dizzy. The past two days had gone by in a blur. Although it wasn't his wife who had passed away less than two weeks ago, he'd been struck hard by his brother's loss and grief. And now, Joshua was gone, too. It was too much loss at once. When he and his brother were both serving the union in the war, it was expected that he might lose him, but how could he lose him now? How was Theo supposed to take all of this? His heart ached in his chest, and he groaned, sending up a silent prayer, though he wasn't even sure what he should say except, "Help me, Lord."

"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust," the preacher said over the grave as he threw a handful of dirt upon the pine box that Joshua lay in.

Everyone waited. At the back of the crowd, a baby was crying. His nephew, Joshua, junior. The newborn had already known so much death in his short little life—it was a good thing that the baby couldn't understand what was going on. Tears stung the backs of Theo's eyes as he stepped forward and took a handful of dirt from the pile next to the six-foot hole that would soon be filled by the gravediggers. His vision blurred and a lump formed in his throat as he threw the handful of dirt upon the pine and turned away. He was glad that he couldn't see the box in the hole. He didn't want to see it. He'd rather remember his brother outside of the box. His brother's smiling face. How happy he'd been only a short time ago when he and his wife Sarah were just expecting. That's how Theo wanted to remember his brother, even though those memories stung him right now.

The wind blew through the trees, and the gray sky threatened rain, but nothing had fallen yet. The weather wasn't nearly as cold as it was two days ago. Nature was going through tantrums on its way toward winter, and in the wrong conditions, it was deadly. Theo heaved a long sigh and swiped at his eyes when he reached the preacher's wife, who still held onto little Joshua. She smiled up at him softly as Theo came to her. "He's doing fine. He's fussing just a little since he's getting hungry."

Slowly Theo nodded. His brother had bought two she-goats and their nursing kids so that they could harvest the milk to help feed the young one. But they'd been struggling so far to find a suitable nanny for the child. "Thank you for your help," he said in a voice that sounded too hoarse to his own ears. He reached for young Joshua. "I'll take him from you."

Her brow furrowed. "If you'd like, I can make my way over to the wagon with you. I'm not in any hurry and it will keep you with two hands free at least for the moment."

"Thank you again." He turned toward the cart where his cowboys were already loading up, ready to head back to the ranch. Though the baby continued to fuss, somehow it was like music to Theo's ears. It meant that the child was still alive, and some small piece of his brother remained even though Joshua the elder was gone.

Once they reached the cart, he reached for the child. "I'll take him."

Slowly, Mrs. Slocum, the preacher's wife relinquished young Joshua. "Are you sure you're doing all right with him?"

He swallowed preparing to tell the practiced half-truth. "Until we find a nanny, Mrs. Collins is helping me with his care, but she can only do so much."

"Right. Mrs. Collins is your older maid, right. Where is she today?"

"She didn't feel well enough to make the trip." That much wasn't a lie. Mrs. Collins had been bedridden for the last two days, herself. When she'd heard of Joshua's death, the older woman had collapsed. Luckily, she wasn't holding the baby at the time. Although she could watch the child while he slept in the bed next to her, she wasn't able to take care of herself or the house lately, much less the child.

No, Theo was on his own until they could locate a nanny or nursemaid or someone to help him with raising his nephew. Holding the baby close to him, he mounted the front seat of the wagon and sat next to the driver, since the seat had springs and would make the ride less bumpy for the infant instead of sitting in the back of the cart with the cowboys. Once aboard, he tipped his hat toward Mrs. Slocum and then looked ahead. Sun seemed to be breaking through the clouds to the west. Maybe they'd make it through the afternoon without a rainstorm.

The baby in his arms fussed a little. Mrs. Collins said that he needed to be fed every two or three hours, and it had been every bit of two hours since he'd last had a bottle. It would be another twenty minutes before they could make it to the ranch and milk the goat to get little Joshua's next meal.

They were heading into winter, so it was a good time for Theo to back off of his duties around the ranch and to trust Hank and the others to take care of the cattle and horses. And for the next few months, it wouldn't be much for Theo to take care of his nephew. But what happened in the spring? What happened if they couldn't get a nanny in to take care of Joshua by then? Would Theo have to remain behind and allow the other cowboys to do all the work? It was bad enough that they were down a man with his older brother gone, but then they'd be down two. And they certainly couldn't afford to hire a replacement.

He let out a slow breath and watched it cloud around him in a wisp. Even though it hadn't rained, the cold air was already starting to settle in. As they pulled up to the ranch, he held the child closer to his chest to keep him warm.

"I'll get some milk for you," Hank said as he hopped down from the driver's seat. "You head inside and get the babe out of this weather."

Theo nodded and did as he was told. Once inside the house, he headed straight for Mrs. Collins's room. A cough met him in the hallway just before he reached her door. He rapped upon it and called in, "Mrs. Collins? Could I come in?"

"Of course, dearie. Come in! And bring that bundle of joy in with you."

As he entered, he found Mrs. Collins working herself up against her pillows into a sitting position. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she sniffed, but a smile spread across her lips as he entered. "Bring that baby here and let me hold him."

The baby had quieted, but still continued to fuss a bit with his eyes closed.

Mrs. Collins met Theo's eyes with her own bloodshot ones. And he saw the kerchief in her hand. He brought the baby to her and let her take little Joshua from him. "The ceremony was a quiet one, I think it did Joshua the elder justice." His voice cracked as he said it.

She swallowed, her eyes becoming watery as she held the child. "I know I can't stay in this bed forever and that I have much too much to do, but I just… I can't…"

"No," Theo said, shaking his head. "Don't worry. You just need to get better. Don't push yourself too hard. You've raised both me and Josh like we were your own children. That babe in your arms is practically your grandchild. You even were there to deliver him. We're family, so don't go fussing about how you have work to do."

Her shoulders lowered a little in relief as she nodded, a small thin smile stretching across her lips. "Thank you," she said, in a quiet whisper. "You've always been a dear, Theo."

He nodded in response, a lump forming in his throat. The baby struggled a little bit against Mrs. Collins's arms and fussed a bit more than he had on the trip home.

"Oh, he's very hungry. And now that he's sitting still, he'll become more demanding. Could you go and fetch a bottle?"

Just as she finished asking, stomping boots at the front door of the house let Theo know that Hank had just arrived with the milk. "I'll be back in a jiffy," Theo said as he spun on his heel and met Hank at the door of the kitchen.

Once Theo took the bucket of milk that hadn't cooled much since it came fresh from the goat, he returned quickly with a bottle and handed it to Mrs. Collins. She hummed to the child while he drank. It wasn't long before the baby finally drifted off into a more peaceful slumber, resting from the heaviness of the day. Then Mrs. Collins looked up at Theo with an assessing gaze and the smallest of frowns tugging at her lip.

After dealing with her scrutiny for a few seconds, he asked, "What is it?"

Her frown turned into a chagrined half-smile. "When will you consider getting married yourself?"

The blood drained from his face. "What do you mean?"

"You've been of age for quite a while, and yet you've been playing the lonesome cowboy and former soldier for too long. Now you're the head of the family and head of the ranch. It's time for you to let go of the past and take on the responsibilities of your position."

The world seemed to tilt for a moment as Theo flushed further. He didn't think it was possible for the blood to drain more from his body, but everything turned cold, right down to the soles of his feet. He shook his head. This was moving too fast. "I just buried my brother today and I can't be considering jumping right into his shoes immediately. Isn't it fair that I should get a chance to mourn him before considering doing such a thing?"

Slowly, Mrs. Collins nodded. "Of course. But you should be thinking about what I said. It may be time to for you to settle down and find a young woman to help me and you take care of this house and this child. It was one thing to lose Sarah, but to lose both her and Josh—" Mrs. Collins swallowed and steeled herself before she continued, "It's overwhelming."

"To say the least," Theo whispered. He'd been avoiding thoughts of the things that Mrs. Collins had described. He knew that he'd need to take on more responsibilities, but a wife? That hadn't even entered his thoughts. His life was much too dark to consider those thoughts. So much death. So much tragedy. And when he lay at night in the dark and the ghosts of the past came to haunt him, Theo knew he didn't want to burden a potential wife with that.

He shook his head and stepped out of the door of the bedroom as the child would be sleeping now and Mrs. Collins would take care of him. A wife. He shook his head again. He couldn't think on that right now. He had too much work to do.

Serena held the baby close to her chest, reveling in the warmth of its little body cradled in her arms and the smell of her golden wisps of hair. The baby melted her heart each time it smiled up at her.

"You're going to be an excellent mother someday, Serena," Johann's sister, Greta said with a wide smile. "The children seem to love you."

Smiling in return, Serena nodded. "From your lips to God's ears," she said in a barely audible whisper as Greta turned away to get a bottle from her sack.

Then she met eyes with Johann, whose lip was curled in disgust as he approached. "Greta, you really shouldn't burden Serena with holding the child. Her fingers are much to valuable for her to be working her hands in such a way."

"No," Serena said immediately. "I'm fine. Little Josephine is no burden."

His snarl persisted as he said sharply, "Greta."

Johann's sister returned immediately to pull the child from Serena's arms with an apologetic look. Immediately, she felt the emptiness and the coldness at the loss of the baby from her hold. Her heart sank as she met eyes with Johann again. She wanted to say something to him, to tell him that he was being overprotective, and she was better than fine, she wanted to hold the baby, but Johann was already speaking.

"I suppose you should realize now that babies are to be raised by nannies and women who have no better use of their time, like Greta. If she had half the talent that you do at anything at all, she'd make better use of it and not have children at all." Johann placed his hands on her shoulders. "But not to worry. I already have too many commitments for us to worry about such things. Children will not be in our future once we're married. We have much too many things to concern ourselves with than to worry over… those things."

Immediately, Serena's heart sank. No children. That had been one of the things that she'd dreamed about since she was young and in the orphanage. She'd decided then that she wanted a large family. Five or six children, at least. Because she'd been an only child, she wanted her children to have siblings to rely upon no matter what. It had never occurred to her that her future husband might want no children at all.

Of course, she'd never imagined that she'd be marrying Johann, either.

Her heart thumped in her chest as he sauntered across the room toward a servant in the hallway, unseen by anyone else in the room except for Serena. They stood close together, Johann speaking to her and making the girl giggle in her hand. Serena had wondered what their relationship was, but when she asked about it once, Johann just grew angry with her.

What was she to do? How could Serena escape having Johann in control of the rest of her life without caring at all about what she wanted or her dreams and desires? Her hands fisted and unfisted at her sides. These hands. She hated them almost as much as she hated Johann. He treasured them, pampered them, and wouldn't allow her to do anything that might harm them. He didn't want to marry her. He only wanted to control what she did with her hands. At one time, she loved playing the piano, but for the last year or so, she'd begun to hate it and wish that she could somehow quit having to do concerts or even practice. If she were more cunning and not so much of a perfectionist, she could have just started to play the wrong notes, but she hated the sound of poorly played music even more. Or maybe it was just because she didn't want to deal with Johann's displeasure if she played a sour note.

Still, as she drew closer to the doorway, watching Johann move deeper into the shadows of the hallway with the servant, Serena took hold of the door handle, and began to shut the door to the room to give them some privacy—and also because she didn't want to see what they did in the shadows. The heavy oak door began drawing to a close when she suddenly had a horrible impulse and acted upon it. She placed her left hand in the door jamb and slammed the oak door as hard as she could. Sharp pain screamed through her arm as white splashed across her vision. She fell backwards, causing the door to continue to crush her hand, but for some reason she couldn't let go. The bones in her hands crunched and moved against each other, and she couldn't help but cry out from the pain. Finally, she released the handle and fell to the ground on her backside, pulling her injured hand toward her chest. Blood. She hadn't expected so much blood.

"What's happened?" Johann demanded as he came through the door she'd just closed. He eyed her and hissed. "Someone, call a doctor!"

Stars still crowded her vision as her hand continued to throb. Tears blurred what she could see, but still she could make out the look that Johann gave her. It wasn't one of pity or concern. It was accusation and disappointment that she saw there in his narrowed gaze.